Love of a Spartan: Frederic-104
by Auralee
Summary: An A/U UST jokefic inspired by AshleyBudrick and her "Love of a Spartan" universe. Full summary inside. M to be safe. COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Hello to all my readers! I know it's been awhile since I last posted anything, but I promise I haven't stopped writing! And to that end, I present what I'm calling a 'joke-fic' inspired by AshleyBudrick, author of the VERY excellent "Love Of A Spartan" canon. It started as a joke, which morphed into a oneshot, and eventually turned into a two-part story: since the Master Chief is taken in the LOAS universe, I decided to explore a possible "unresolved sexual tension" issue between BLADE and Fred-104, stemming from the fact that she roundly kicked his behind in "The Secret Spartan." I also wrote this in a completely different form than my usual style: everything is written from BLADE's first person POV, and it might seem a little chaotic.

Okay, enough with the summary-on to the show!

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo. Sergeant Renee Kilburn belongs to AshleyBudrick.

**Love of a Spartan: Frederic-104**

**Part One**

Anyone that's ever seen me interact with the other SPARTAN-IIs can tell I have issues with them. Mostly trust issues—I still don't know if they have orders to terminate me or not—but occasionally it's just a case of egos. Where Frederic-104 was concerned, ego was EVERYTHING: I'd kicked his ass royally during a sparring session, and since hand-to-hand was kind of his specialty he took it a bit personally. And by a bit, I actually mean _a lot_; I never thought it was possible for a Spartan to hold a grudge! Unfortunately, grudges and suspicion seemed to be coming to the forefront more often than not lately.

Ever since the war ended I'd been cooling my heels at Camp Hayes, right up until the whole damn gang of Spartans showed up right on my doorstep: Twos, Threes, and a squad of Helljumpers to boot! It was funny in a way, since they needed my help with an old Forerunner message, and before you know it I'm on a ship heading off on yet another mission—probably my last hurrah before ONI finally gets their body (and by their body, I actually mean _mine_). Of course, it wasn't just me, I asked Kilburn to come along, for two reasons: A). I wanted someone there that I could trust with my life, and B). I didn't want to interrupt the hand-to-hand and knife lessons I'd been giving her. The kid was coming along beautifully, that was for sure.

The downside of continuing her hand-to-hand lessons on board the ship was that the Spartans tended to show up. I still hadn't figured out _why_ they were all popping up at the same time, but I swear by every single divinity in the universe that it wasn't a coincidence; best guess, they're keeping an eye on Kilburn. Yeah, the Chief may have his head up his ass, but he's still very protective of his little sergeant. Honestly, I think he's still in love with her, but he still can't decide if he's all in or all out: and, as far as I'm concerned, if he can't make up his mind then he doesn't deserve her, but that's just me.

One thing I was pretty quick to notice was that Fred was showing up at every single session—though he kinda tipped me off when he decided to start trying to spar with me after "class." He was certainly a lot better than the last time I'd kicked his ass, and somewhere along the way he'd picked up a few surprise moves and a ruthlessness I admired. Unfortunately for him, I was still better, and if I _really_ wanted to I could still pin him to the mat in a few moves—but, honestly, I kinda liked having a proper workout for once.

Unfortunately for me, I was starting to enjoy these sparring sessions a little too much. That was my best guess, at least, given the odd sensations I was feeling during grappling sessions: heat flashes, an overly high adrenaline surge, and a strange tingling sensation. Why, I have no idea, but the only other time I'd had any of those particular symptoms was when I was reading all those contraband novels—and it was nowhere near as intense as when I was grappling with Fred in the gym. I'm pretty sure the smart move would've been to avoid all contact with the Spartan and figure out what was going on, why I was suddenly feeling these sensations—though I was fairly sure it was a pretty good case of sexual attraction, if my various paperbacks were any indication—but I was never that smart. And, I was something of a habitual creature, so asking me to change my routine without a damn good reason is pretty much impossible.

Further proof that I was dumber than a box of rocks, in this case, was the fact that I was simultaneously trying to spar with an incredibly skilled SPARATN-II and puzzling out what in the hell was going on in my head—and anyone who knows me knows that's just not going to end well. That was the only reason Fred was getting the best of me—the sneaky bastard had already gotten some good hits, and I was starting to get extremely frustrated in EVERY sense of the word. Frustrated, horny, irritated with myself—yeah, I should've been avoiding this guy.

"Having problems there?" Fred smirked as I spun out of the way, narrowly dodging a strike.

"Maybe I just have a lot on my mind today," I grunted, hooking a leg behind his ankle and pulling forward. He still hadn't caught on to that trick, and I had him on his ass. Not one to let an advantage slide, I moved in for the "kill"—a simulated neck-break—but Fred was ready; the sneaky bastard swept a leg out and dropped me, coming from behind to pin me to the mat with his body weight. I'm sure it would have made an interesting picture: me on my stomach, arms pinned to the mat, and a male Spartan body all but squashing me. Interesting? I meant _awkward_, especially after I felt something hard against my ass….oh hell, there goes that tingling thing again!

"Must be something really important, I've never known you to throw a match," Fred's voice rumbled in my ear, a lot lower and darker than I had heard before. And oh my Lord, was it having an effect! How just speaking to someone could be that intense, I had no idea, but hopefully he didn't notice the hitch in my breathing. Shaking my head I broke my arms loose and pushed our combined bodies off the mat, throwing him off my back and whirling into a combat stance.

"The only thing I'm gonna be throwing today is you, dipshit!" Yeah, I was a bit pissed. Normally I don't start throwing kicks around during a sparring session, but this was far from a normal situation. Between the hormones and the fact that Fred was actually _beating me_ at my own skill set, I was confused, angry, and out for blood. Bringing my right foot up, I launched a kick at his head, which he dodged and countered with a blow to my ribs. I spun out of the way, grabbed his hand, and yanked him off-balance, trying to bring my elbow down on the base of his skull—a crude combat move, at least compared to my usual methods, but fairly effective when properly applied. Sadly, today was one of my off days, and I found myself spun around and pinned to the wall, my arms above my head, and Fred too close for comfort. Usually when I get pinned like this I pull off some of my dirty tricks—oh, I have a whole mess of them—but against a Spartan it would have been difficult. That, and for some reason I wasn't able to do more than stare at him. Damn it, did he _have_ to be good-looking? Yeah, sure, he was a bit scarred up, but it made him look rugged and manly….Snap out of it!

"I win," Fred rumbled, his voice still that low pitch that was doing strange things to my body: tingling all over, my legs were shaking, I couldn't breathe—this was like a scene from one of my novels! I swallowed, hoping to God I didn't look as uneasy as I felt, this was all really strange. I tried—really, I tried—to look anywhere else, but it was like my eyes were drawn up; I couldn't look anywhere but at his face.

"What do you win?" Oh God, did I _really_ just say that? And it didn't even _sound_ like me, my voice doesn't get like that! All low and breathy and….wait, why is he leaning forward? He's not….is he? I didn't even get a chance to react before he was _kissing me_. And oh my God, it was more incredible than anything I'd felt before—nothing like those trashy novels, there was no tongue, but WOW! Well, there wouldn't be no tongue for long: recalling one of many scenes I'd read, I slipped my tongue in his mouth and slid it along his. It didn't take long before he figured it out, and things were starting to REALLY heat up. The grip on my arms was loosening up, and I was beginning to think that trying to pull him closer was a good idea….

"Well, now, don't let me interrupt," a familiar sarcastic voice drawled from the doorway, snapping us both back to reality. Oh God, _Buck!_ Of all the people….Fred backed up just enough for me to see him AND the Master Chief in the doorway; while John just looked surprised, Buck had the biggest grin on his face, and I swear he looked like Christmas had come early. As if things couldn't get any worse….Shoving my way out from between Fred and the wall, I got the hell out of the gym. I wasn't sure where I was going, but right now the last thing I needed was company.

Two hours and a cold shower later, I slipped into the mess hall and got into line to try and get some food—hopefully without being noticed by a certain group of Helljumpers. Knowing Buck, he'd most likely filled in the rest of his squad as soon as he could, if for no other reason than to embarrass the Spartans, and from what I had already seen of the man it would definitely NOT be forgotten anytime soon. Fortunately, I had a lot of experience with blending in—a natural consequence of SpecOps missions—and had made myself as inconspicuous as possible, trading in my usual blacksuit and braid for loose fatigues, a tank top, and a ponytail. If you ignored the fact that I was about two meters tall and considerably more built than the average Marine, not to mention more scarred, I looked just like one of them. And, to be honest, it felt good to shed my skin for a bit; I was still armed, of course, but my knives were concealed in my boots instead of at my waist.

Grabbing a tray of unidentifiable mystery food without incident, I retreated to a corner and ate, using the challenge of keeping my food down to think about what happened earlier with a clear head. Thanks to my minor—okay, not-so-minor—addiction to smut, I could recognize some of the signs of physical attraction, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out how it all started. Unless there was some truth to the phrase "opposites attract?" Trying not to gag on another mouthful of…stuff, I felt someone watching me; a brief glance up showed me a smirking Gunnery Sergeant Buck holding court with his squad. I nodded briefly before returning to my meal….ah hell, my appetite's shot anyway, this shit's just awful. I grabbed my tray and returned it to the kitchen (still half full, that was just embarrassing) before exiting the mess hall.

Since I'd given up on the mystery meal, I figured I'd head back to my quarters; my musings had left me a little, well, tense, and I was hoping that some stretches or meditation might help. Yes, I meditate occasionally, and it does help center me when I'm rattled. And actually, I was thinking less about meditation and a LOT about the box of dark chocolate caramels and cinnamon crème truffles Mom had slipped into my kit bag. How she managed it, I have no idea—probably with a little help from Lorienna.

Finally! Unlocking the door to my room, I shut and locked it as quickly as I could, and directed my attention towards my locker. I was too preoccupied with chocolate to notice the figure that was hiding in a corner and steadily moving up behind me—right up until I was grabbed from behind, spun around, and pinned to a wall. It was fast, _really_ fast, and I didn't even have time to react as Fred kissed me soundly. Not that I was complaining, even if I could have said anything with his tongue doing wonderful things in my mouth. And by this point I had gone completely weak in the knees, to the point that the only things keeping me upright were Fred's body and the bulkhead.

Someone moaned, I wasn't sure who, but it was enough to halt the make-out session. We were both breathing heavily, his hands were around my waist, and my arms had somehow wound around his neck. The tingling sensation from before had multiplied substantially, and my underwear felt damp (which was something new), not to mention that I was having a hard time staying upright.

"Wow," I murmured breathlessly, trying to will some feeling back in my legs; I wasn't used to depending on people for support.

"Yeah," Fred replied, his voice low. He pressed his body against me—and me back into the bulkhead—and something hard was pushing against my stomach. Okay, he's aroused, so am I, and that bed is looking VERY tempting right now. Fred noticed my glance at the bed and pulled me away from the bulkhead, his mouth back on mine as he walked me backward. I felt a hand reaching into my hair, tugging the band out and loosening the ponytail, and my calves hit the mattress. I lost my balance and fell, pulling him down with me since I now had a death grip on his shirt; somehow Fred had the presence of mind to brace himself with his forearms so I wasn't squashed. The impact broke the kiss, and he took advantage of the pause to pin my arms out beside me. I glared at him, but try as I might he had a pretty good grip.

"What's wrong?" I asked, trying to keep the disappointment down. He started this, so why was he stopping me?

"Just assessing the situation," Fred muttered, his eyes looking me over. He certainly _looked_ like he was still interested; bringing my legs up, I managed to flip him onto his back and straddled his waist, using my wrists (which he still had a grip on) to keep his arms down.

"The situation, Lieutenant, is that you've gotten me all hot and bothered. And I'm not about to take that lying down." I leaned down, brushing my breasts against his chest—I do love those novels, they've got so much useful information in them—and grinned as he inhaled sharply. "Last chance, Fred: all in or all out?"

He didn't bother answering, just brought his head up to kiss me again. For someone who probably had even less experience than I did, he was turning out to be a surprisingly good kisser; not that I should be surprised, Spartans tended to be overachievers, including me. I pulled away from the kiss and tugged his shirt up, making sure to touch as much as I could along the way, and he certainly seemed to enjoy it. An evil thought came to mind and I leaned forward, lightly pinching one of the nipples on his chest; Fred gasped, and I took that as encouragement to lean down and run my tongue around it, grinning as he moaned. He tried to sit up—I'm assuming he was trying to return the favor—but I pushed him back down.

"Ah, ah, Fred, you'll get your chance to explore." Laying down so that my body was completely covering his, I whispered, "Just think of this as mission prep," and bit lightly on his earlobe.

I didn't even get the chance to start exploring him, because as soon I did that he sat up and pulled me tight against him—not a move I'd been expecting, but I seemed to really have my guard down at the moment. He had me in what could only have been a bear hug, which meant I was completely trapped and defenseless, but for some reason it only turned me on more. One hand came up and snaked through my hair, keeping my head still.

"I've had more than enough prep already," he growled—I mean actually _growled_—and thrust his hips up. I gasped as a rush of something went through me, something unknown that only made me want more. My head lolled back, and Fred started kissing my throat; I don't know how he knew to do that, but in my head I was going _don't stop, don't stop, oh God don't stop_.

"Wasn't planning on it," he chuckled—oh hell, did I actually say that?—and continued his assault. I felt a hand slip under my tank top and run along my ribs, along the scars from my capture several years ago. His thumb swiped across the tip of one breast and I actually whimpered, a sound that is practically IMPOSSIBLE to get outta me. He chuckled again and moved his mouth down to my collarbone, all while continuing to thrust his hips upwards. Instinctively I rolled my hips in response, trying to get more of that wonderful feeling. Fred moaned and pulled his face back up to mine, his tongue thrusting and sliding, and _oh God_ did it feel good!

Somehow I managed to get my hands loose and went after his pants, trying desperately to get them open. For some reason it was taking a lot of effort—did he have them _welded_ shut or something? I heard him gasp as I bumped…well, I wasn't quite sure _what_ I bumped, but it seemed to have an effect: he reached up, grabbed my tank top, and literally tore it off of me. I giggled, wondering how he was going to handle the bra, until he pulled his boot knife and made a neat little slice right up the middle.

"Could've let me handle it," I giggled again, then moaned when he gripped my breast. It was rough, it was sudden, it was HOT, and I wanted more; I pushed my chest out in invitation, and felt one nipple engulfed in wet heat.

"Oh God," I moaned, just completely lost in feeling. Fred chuckled, the vibrations going right through me. He picked up his head and grinned.

"Enjoying yourself?"

I reached back to his pants, fumbling with the fasteners. "Enough teasing, Fred. These. Have. Got. To. Go. NOW!"

It took some fumbling, and a lot of swearing, but the pants and underwear finally vanished, and I was staring. I couldn't help it, honest—he was HUGE! Suddenly I was feeling a little intimidated, I mean, seriously—how would that thing even fit?

"Not scared, are you?" Fred grinned, rolling me onto my back.

"Just a little," I admitted quietly. "I wasn't expecting _quite_ that much."

Slightly intimidated, I backed up, but he grabbed my ankles and pulled me back, positioning himself between my legs. I felt a cross between fear and anticipation, and braced myself as he entered. It hurt, but not as bad as I thought it would, and after awhile I was impatient for him to move.

"Just gonna lay there, Lieutenant?" I teased, rocking my hips.

"I was waiting for orders," Fred gasped as I moved—oh God, I'm not sure who was enjoying this more, me or him.

"Then, Lieutenant, I order you to fuck me as hard as you can." That was the last thing I remembered.

When I came to I was covered in bruises, my entire body ached, and there was a dull burning sensation in my groin. Memories of the previous night's activities—at least, I _think_ it was last night—started coming back, helped by the torn clothing on my floor and the fact that I felt like I'd been through a war zone. Though I wasn't expecting to wake up alone….spotting a hastily-scrawled note on my desk, I picked it up and shook my head, grinning.

'Round two is a go at your discretion.'

Cocky bastard.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Halo. Sergeant Kilburn belongs to AshleyBudrick.

**Love of a Spartan: Frederic-104**

**Part 2**

Sitting down for breakfast—or at least what passed for breakfast—was an adventure, since any time I actually sat it felt like someone was stabbing me in the crotch. Okay, maybe not _that_ bad, but it was certainly uncomfortable. I did my best to hide the wince and poured a ton of pepper on the powdered eggs; it was pretty much the only way to make them palatable. Oh, what I wouldn't give for some quality time with a proper kitchen!

Buck was grinning as I walked past the ODST table, and I did my best to ignore him as I sat down as gently as I could casually manage. Yeah, I'm used to walking off injuries, but this was something completely different and unique. Still, I kinda brought it on myself; brushing the thought aside I attacked my breakfast, shoveling the "eggs" down as fast as I could—I really _hate_ powdered eggs.

Since I had my attention focused on my plate, I felt more than saw someone sitting down across from me, or rather several someones. Yeah, this is NOT good; I looked up to see not only Buck, but his entire SQUAD had migrated to my table, and all but Rookie was grinning. Rolling my eyes, I returned my attention to the plate in front of me.

"Don't you have something better to do besides watch me eat?" Out of the corners of my eyes I saw a group of heads shake. Really, guys?

"So, what the hell did those eggs do to you?" Buck commented. Okay, maybe I was stabbing the eggs a little roughly.

"Never was a fan of powdered eggs, they taste like shit. I'd almost rather suffer through Mom's butternut squash." Actually, if I had the chance, I'd avoid both of those unsavory delights. The fake eggs at least didn't stink, though.

"And here I thought you'd had a bad night," the gunnery sergeant snickered. Ah, so there's the reason he popped up. Too bad for him.

"If it had been a bad night, Gunnery Sergeant, I would be dead right now, not attempting to eat breakfast." The too-calm tone of my voice could say a lot to people who knew me: when I got that calm, the subject was serious, and usually meant a change of subject was needed. I wasn't actually in that frame of mind right now, but Buck and company had seen enough of my moods to know when they were pushing the envelope. And like everyone I didn't much trust, I could play them like a violin—easier, actually, since they weren't quite as informed as ONI where I was concerned. Shoveling the last few bites of eggs in my mouth, I turned my attention to the very attractive bits of bacon, happily crunching on one while keeping an eye on the rest of the room. The Helljumpers, other than Buck's squad, were keeping a wide berth, as were most of the Marines. The Spartans were only just arriving; instinctively I ducked my head back down, and the table's occupants snickered. _Crap_.

"I've never known a shy Spartan before," Buck commented, and I didn't need to see his face to know he was grinning. Even worse, I was BLUSHING—I never blush!

"Or maybe I want to finish breakfast and figure out what I need to do today," I snapped. Matt usually had a few things I could occupy myself with, or maybe there was a scouting mission on the board. Not likely though—after the disaster that was my last scouting trip they were keeping me on board as much as possible. Never mind that it wasn't my fault; after all, who expected a millennia-old Forerunner ghost would show up? I did my best to ignore the teasing from the men around me, focusing on finishing my breakfast and getting out of there.

"Finishing breakfast? Is that what people are calling it these days?" Okay, NOW I was starting to get pissed. A little teasing is all well and good, my brothers do it all the time to me (or at least, they used to), but this was crossing more than a few lines. Glancing up again, I saw Captain Dare walking into the mess hall, and an evil grin made its way to my face: the kind of grin that scares people.

"I'd watch my words if I were you, Gunnery Sergeant, especially considering your own…entanglements," I grinned, nodding my head in the direction of the captain. Gotcha! Buck and the Helljumpers looked over, somewhat worried, and I used the distraction to get up and turn in my now-empty tray.

Unfortunately, that took me past the group of Spartans that were now eyeing ME with speculation. As if I didn't have enough to worry about….I nodded briefly in acknowledgement and kept going, treating it like any other day. Hopefully nothing showed on my face, but no one made a move to speak, luckily. And even more luckily, I made it out of the mess hall without too much trouble. Taking a deep breath, I headed out to find out what I'd be doing today.

I decided to show up early for Kilburn's lesson, mostly to work out my own frustrations. The punching bag looked very attractive and I went at it with a vengeance, in spite of how sore I was feeling. And I certainly didn't need a medical degree to know how sore I was: there were bruises all over my body, and I was sure I had spotted a few hickeys on my neck when I changed into my workout gear. Luckily, my blacksuit had a high collar, which had saved me from even more torment at breakfast; on the other hand, I doubted that Buck would leave it alone if he made an appearance in the gym today, which seemed likely. No helping it now though. I launched a spinning kick at the bag, coming down neatly and throwing my fist out, hearing the dull thud as it impacted. An open palm strike followed by a knee, and I stopped when I heard applause coming from the doorway.

"You've seen the show before, Kilburn," I smiled—a real smile, not my usual half-grin—and turned towards my pupil, flipping my braid back over my left shoulder. Right on time, as always….and with Fred and Kelly in tow. I swear to God, could today get any worse? Apparently it can, since Kelly seemed mildly amused, and Fred had the barest hint of a smile on his face. And there goes that tingling sensation again, damn it!

"Never gets old, though," Kilburn replied. The Marine's gaze shifted, taking in the many bruises on my arms and torso that added color to my various scars. "What happened to you?"

"A sparring session got a little out of hand. It looks worse than it is, though." I forced a chuckle, folding my arms across my chest and shifting my weight to one leg. It was a posture I used sometimes when I was uncomfortable or defiant, or occasionally just wanted to feel like a badass—today it was a combination of uncomfortable and badass. "Gives all my scars a little more character, don't it?"

"You could say that," she smirked—clearly, I didn't fool her for a minute, but I knew she'd keep quiet. I made a mental note to pick her brain later, and wondered why I hadn't thought of doing that before. Kilburn, oblivious to my inner musings, had approached the bag. I shook off my thoughts and turned, ready to start the lesson and trying desperately to ignore the stares of the two Spartans and the throbbing somewhere in my gut.

Kilburn had come a long way with her hand-to-hand since I started working with her—at her request, I might add. Freshly arrived at Camp Hayes, she'd seen me working out one morning and asked me if I could show her a few things, which I was more than happy to do. Since I was already teaching my niece some self-defense moves, I had no issue with helping a Marine. And she caught on faster than Katie, probably because she'd learned the basics at boot camp. She'd be ready for some of my sneakier tricks before long.

The lesson seemed to take no time at all, and Kilburn—slightly more worn out than when she arrived—headed off to the showers, after promising to find me at dinner. Yeah, I asked for her input, so what? The woman's got a good head on her shoulders, and frankly, she would've made one hell of a Spartan—not that I'd wish that on anyone, since most of what went wrong with me could be traced back to Halsey's program. Unfortunately, that now meant I was alone with two smirking Spartans: not necessarily a good thing, in my book. Only thing I could think of was to get out of there, _fast_.

"Feel up for a round?" Kelly asked, to my slight surprise. Of course that was out of the question—I may be crazy, but even crazy people know when to pick their battles. And with her speed, I wouldn't stand a snowball's chance in hell.

"Thanks for the offer, but I've seen how fast you are. Think I'll pass." I tried to be polite about it, or as polite as I usually get, and no one seemed offended. Not that I'd be able to tell if I tried, the Spartans are damn near impossible to read. I grabbed my bag and headed for the showers, but Kelly blocked my path.

"So, what really happened that left you with all those marks?" She crossed her arms, trying to intimidate me. And if I hadn't been cut from similar cloth, it might have worked. But I knew better than to say anything—after all, who would believe me? That, and I knew the value of a little thing called discretion.

"Why the game, since it's clear you already know, or at least guessed?" I needed to get out of there, pronto. "If you have something to say, say it. If not, then let me be. I don't have the patience for word games today." Shoving my way past, I headed to the showers—or made it look like I did. Since I hadn't worked up much of a sweat I doubled back to my quarters and locked myself in. Hopefully no one caught on.

Glancing around at the mess left over from last night (why I hadn't cleaned up this morning, I had no clue), I covered my face with my hands and groaned. Torn shirt, bra sliced through, rumpled bed….and I couldn't even remember what happened after he entered. The last memory I have was telling him to get on with it—not in so many words—and then, nothing. I don't know how that happened, you'd think I'd WANT to remember getting that kind of action, but who knows. But everything else I could remember….I swore quietly as I felt that now-familiar tingling sensation.

A knock on the door interrupted my musings; not just any knock, it was the signal Kilburn and I used on base, two sharp raps and one longer one. Apparently she'd decided that she didn't want to wait until dinner to talk to me. I turned around and unlocked the door, opening it just enough for her to slip in. She took a long look around, taking in the disarray, and whistled.

"You weren't kidding when you said you were 'sparring,' were you?" she smirked, picking up the remains of my bra. "Who won?"

"I honestly don't know, Sarge," I shook my head, picking up the remains of my shirt and retrieving the bra dangling from Kilburn's fingers. "I can't remember half of it. Last thing I remember was…." I trailed off, slightly embarrassed to be discussing this so openly. True, I'm not exactly a prude, but some conversations you just don't have.

"Was?" Kilburn prompted. I swear to God she was trying not to grin. But, I did kinda bring it on myself, by asking for her advice. Still, this was more than a little awkward—there are some subjects that should _never_ be discussed openly.

"Was him…well, he…went _in_," I stammered, making motions with my hands. "Then he stopped and said he was waiting for orders, I told him to…well, to get on with it…next thing I know I'm waking up alone and sore, with a note on my desk. And no," I saw her expression shift, "It wasn't the bad kind of note. Just letting me know he was interested in more if I was."

"Soooo, how was it?" Yeah, Kilburn was DEFINITELY grinning; I swear she was channeling her friend Amy at this point. I groaned, covering my face with one hand, and sank down on what was left of my bunk. The groan was quickly replaced by a wince as I landed on some tender bits.

"Considering I can't remember anything after…insertion…it's hard to say. But everything up to that point…._wow_." I managed to look her in the eye, finally. "He certainly didn't _act_ like he hadn't done it before." Seeing her look of curiosity, I gave her a condensed, PG-13 rated version of the prior night's events.

"So, what's the problem?" Kilburn asked when I was finished.

"The 'problem' is that I don't know where this attraction is coming from, or whether it'll turn into something more. Not to mention, it turns Fred into a walking target—you know ONI will go through the roof when they find out." Sighing, I raked my hands through my hair. "I don't even know _why_ I let it happen, what the hell was I thinking? I am the absolute LAST person that should be getting involved with someone!"

"Aren't you the one who's always telling me to trust my instincts?" Okay, she had a point. Though I'd been referring to combat training rather than…this. "Obviously your instincts said to go for it. And if it's as good as I think it was, I bet you're thinking about a repeat performance."

"And just how would you know how good it was, hmmm?" I smirked as Kilburn started blushing.

"I have my own comparison on how Spartans are in bed," she snapped. Not that I could blame her—John-117 was more than a bit of a dumbass for pushing her aside. Though being on the same ship, they were at least trying to work things out. Kilburn certainly seemed happier, that much I could read, but whether it was because things were working out for her or something else entirely, I wasn't sure.

"True, they do tend to be overachievers," I joked, trying to make her smile again—I hated seeing my friends upset. "Just wish I knew what to do about this…this…whatever the hell this is."

I threw up my hands and started pacing, frustration combined with unease. Being indecisive like this, it wasn't something I was used to, and certainly didn't enjoy on the occasions it occurred. God, give me a clear-cut objective any day. Stopping at the bulkhead, I rested my forehead on the metal and exhaled in an attempt to calm myself.

"What do I do, Renee? I have absolutely no fuckin' clue what to do, right now," I whispered, but I knew she could hear me.

"What do you want to do?" Leave it to Kilburn to put it in perspective. But she was right, in a way: this was my decision entirely, no one could tell me what to do on this one. But then again, the consequences didn't just affect me, and that had to be taken into consideration.

"I want more, I want to experience more…but I don't want anyone else getting hurt, or worse, because of their…_involvement_ with me." I sighed, finally admitting defeat. "I want to see him again."

"So go do it," Kilburn grinned, appearing next to me. Her expression sobered for a moment, and she continued, "I know things with John and I aren't very good right now, but I wouldn't trade the time we had together for anything. Since you're a Spartan, like they are, you'll probably have it easier than I did—and both of you can look after yourselves."

"I'm not really a Spartan, Sarge, just someone with the same augmentations, and ONI works differently than Covenant hit squads. Although…" my face broke into a grin, "it would be fun to get the drop on him and return the favor."

"Now that's more like it," Kilburn commented, clapping a hand on my arm. "Now let's go eat, we can plan on the way."

I had to hand it to Kilburn, she could be downright evil sometimes.

Armed with some sage advice, encouragement, and a set of cable ties, I prepped for my next and most crucial mission yet: Operation Payback. But, I did face a minor dilemma—clothes or no clothes? Since I was planning on making use of my camouflage generator, it didn't matter TOO much, but did I really want to freeze to death walking around the ship bare-assed? On the other hand, if I got in there before Fred did, I could strip and hide my garments. Hmmm…tough call.

After some serious debate, I decided to wear just enough clothes that I wouldn't look TOO conspicuous walking towards his quarters—I could flip on the camo as I got closer. If he was there, I'd have to wait awhile, since the whole point of this was to get the drop on him. I mentally ran through what I was planning, trying very hard NOT to grin openly, and slowed as I approached his quarters. Keep it casual…I walked past his room, making sure no one was around before ducking into a corner and flipping on my camouflage. I doubled back to Fred's room and listened at the door: no sounds, no movement, nothing. To be sure I rapped lightly on the door—when no one answered I broke out my lockpicks and let myself in, locking the door behind me. This was gonna be fun.

The room was empty, other than standard furnishings and gear. Grinning madly, I began to strip every stitch from my body—except my belt, I needed that for the camo generator. His bed had plenty of space underneath, where I quickly shoved my clothes and boots. I briefly checked the mirror to make sure I was still invisible, and then backed into a darkened corner: the camouflage might be good, but it wasn't perfect, and darkened areas made it much more effective. I had just barely gotten myself into hiding when the door opened and my target walked in.

Fred looked WHIPPED—and it wasn't the kind of whipped that meant physical workouts. He looked like he'd spent hours planning, analyzing, and debating. Not physically draining, but mentally exhausting, and he looked just about ready to drop. I fought back a grin and watched as he approached the bed: this was TOO perfect! I crept up behind him, ready to drop his ass onto his bunk; Fred had to've felt something behind him, some warning sense, because he stopped, turned and actually looked around. Now or never—I slid my foot behind his and knocked him off balance, using my body to steer his fall towards the bed. He landed on his back with me straddling him, and I grabbed his wrists and strapped them together, using a second cable tie to lash them to his bunk.

"My turn," I murmured in his ear, my voice low. Fred's eyes narrowed, and he tested the restraints. Hopefully they held out long enough for me to execute stage one of my plan.

"If you're hoping for my participation, this isn't exactly the right way to get it," he snapped. I simply smiled, even though he couldn't see it.

"Don't worry, I'll let you out eventually. Or you'll snap those cable ties, one of the two." I giggled, enjoying my power over him, and the fact that in spite of his snapping I could feel an erection under my ass. I leaned forward, shivering slightly as my naked breasts caught on his fatigues, and gently pressed my lips to his—an invitation that didn't go unanswered. It took awhile before either of us came up for air, and in that while I'd almost forgotten WHY I'd restrained him in the first place.

"Is there a reason you decided I can't see you?" Fred muttered, his eyes scanning empty air.

"Mostly so I could surprise you, and return the favor from last night." I giggled again, tracing one finger along his jawline. "Why, did you want to see me?"

"That would be nice," he replied, slightly sarcastically. I grinned and kissed him again, using the distraction to reach down and flip off the camouflage. Watching his reaction, I flushed at the look of pure appreciation as his eyes raked down my naked body. Keeping my eyes on his, I undid the belt and tossed it aside.

"I take it you approve?" I purred as I slowly undid his pants, making sure to pay close attention to his penis, caressing and touching as I slid them down.

"Cut me loose and I'll show you." Oh yeah, he was right where I wanted him. I simply stopped, leaving his pants around his knees, and brought my head back up to his crotch.

"You sure you want that?" Not even waiting for a reply I ran my tongue along his length, enjoying the sound of him moaning in ecstasy. A satisfied noise emerged from the back of my throat, and I looked up to see his eyes closed and his head thrown back. Smiling broadly, I turned my attention back down and took as much of him in my mouth as I could, chuckling softly as he yelped—I mean he actually yelped—in what I assumed was either surprise or ecstasy. The next few minutes were spent in that position before I released his shaft. I wasn't planning on going any further with THIS particular brand of foreplay—not tonight at least—but I saw nothing wrong with giving him a little taste. Besides, the more riled up I got him, the better I could see this night going.

"That's it?" Fred growled from further up the bed. I grinned, sliding further down to remove boots, pants, and all.

"Oh no, my dear Frederic, we're just getting started." Reaching into his left boot, I found his boot knife and drew it, sliding the flat along his shirt-covered torso. "I seem to recall you using this last night. Time to even up." I leaned up and kissed him briefly before sliding the knife under his shirt and making a few careful downward slices. Within moments his shirt was loose, the tattered remains making their way to the floor. Fred's torso was laid bare in front of me; like mine, it was criss-crossed with fine lines of scar tissue, but well-muscled and (to my eyes) beautiful. Leaning down, I used my tongue to lightly trace every single scar, and the soft groans and shivers were well worth the effort. Oh, what I wouldn't give for a bottle of chocolate sauce right now!

It was tempting to spend hours just on his torso, but I was getting much too wound up to wait. Which gave me another idea…no, I'll save that for later. For now, I'll simply show him the benefits of taking one's time. I brought my head up and took his earlobe in my teeth, lightly biting and sucking, kissing my way along his jaw and neck before finally kissing him yet again—I doubt I would ever get tired of kissing him, he was that good.

"Ready for round two?" I whispered, my voice husky.

"If you have to ask," he growled in reply, bringing his hips up to grind his erection against my rear end.

"Understood," I moaned as a fresh wave of tingling hit me—one of the strongest ones I'd had all night. Reaching back, I gripped him lightly and positioned him in the right direction before slowly sinking down. OH MY GOD! He felt so damn good, even as sore as I was yet; I took some time to just enjoy the feeling before rolling my hips, gasping in response to his moans. It didn't take too long to settle into a rhythm: him thrusting, me rocking. The hardest part was keeping either of us from going too quickly, since I wanted to enjoy as much as I could.

I felt myself getting close to a peak, and stopped moving, much to Fred's surprise (and, I suspect, frustration). Pushing myself up and moving away from him, I sat and spread my legs, making sure he could see every single detail. He certainly looked disappointed, but I simply smirked and slid my fingers along a well-travelled path south, groaning in pure pleasure when they slid home. This was something I indulged in ONLY when I knew I had complete privacy, and never on a ship, but I was curious to see what might happen if an already-aroused male watched me. Especially if this was an extremely aroused SPARTAN-II, confined and pushed to the limits of his endurance.

I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, moaning softly as my fingers moved in and out, my thumb swirling in a rough pattern over my clit. My other hand came up and lightly caressed my body, bringing already-heightened senses to a whole new height. I gripped my breast, rolling and pinching the nipple between my fingers as my other hand continued to move. Unconsciously I increased my speed, the need building, building…I cried out softly as my climax hit full force, everything tightening for that brief moment before I sagged against the bed frame. With my eyes closed, in that warm post-climactic lull, I completely forgot that I wasn't alone…

The sound of snapping plastic broke into my reverie, and a pair of hands grabbed me roughly and pulled me flush against a hard male body; I felt myself being spun around and down. A new wave of arousal washed over me as soon as my back hit the mattress, and I opened my eyes to see Fred glaring down at me. His eyes were darkened with pure, primal lust, and I felt helpless and vulnerable—oddly enough, I was getting more turned on by the second.

"That was a dirty trick," he growled. I moaned softly at the sound and the feeling of his hands gripping my arms. No, not gripping me anymore: they were moving all over me, roughly stroking and caressing. A callus on his hand grazed the tip of my breast and I whimpered; I couldn't help it, it just felt so damn GOOD! Another whimper forced its way out as his other hand ran down my side—I swear he left skid marks on the way down.

"Don't tell me you didn't like it," I finally managed in a strangled voice. His hands came back up, and I found myself stretched out in front of him, with both my hands trapped in one of his. And the look on his face was beginning to scare me; it reminded me of a predator, a look I'd only seen once before, and which brought back some _very_ unpleasant memories. Instinctively I tried to break free, but his grip was too strong.

"Not my point," he muttered, positioning himself between my legs. "But I _am_ going to pay you back for that, later. Right now, though," I felt the tip of him nudge something EXTREMELY sensitive, "I plan to enjoy this."

With that he shoved himself inside, and I shrieked in surprise and pleasure—I hadn't expected his sudden entry, since before we'd been slow and gradual. This intrusion was hard, fast, and thrilling. And brief: the bastard STOPPED cold and didn't move almost as soon as he got in! Gave me just enough of a taste to make me want more, and then cut off!

"Oh God, Fred, move already!" I begged, trying to move against him. He didn't move.

"When I'm ready," he grinned, still holding absolutely still. I opened my mouth to protest, but he silenced me with a kiss that made my toes curl. A long, slow, spine-tingling kiss, the kind you read about but can never really imagine. I don't know how long that kiss lasted, and I didn't want it to end—but when it finally did, Fred decided to move. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he moved in and out, a constant pace that he kept no matter how much I urged him to go faster. His mouth descended on my neck, sucking and biting, no doubt leaving a whole new set of bruises behind. I heard someone moan, but wasn't sure if it was him or me—and, honestly, I really didn't care.

Gradually things began to pick up speed, and eventually I felt another climax building…and he stopped again. I growled in annoyance and tried to flip him on his back so I could take control; he was ready for it and held me in place.

"You really think I'm gonna let you off that easily?" he smiled evilly, rolling his hips. I gasped at the feeling and tried to get more of it, but he wasn't cooperating.

"Damn it, Fred, you've had your fun, now fuckin' finish it!" Deciding to make my point, I leaned up and bit his shoulder—not too hard, but enough to at least bruise.

"Oh, we're just getting started," Fred chuckled, but he finally moved, hard and fast. The rest of the night turned into one memorable blur of sensation, and when I finally did get to pass out, I felt better than I had in a LONG time.

I woke up slowly, vaguely wondering why I wasn't able to move, and where that wonderful relaxed feeling had come from. When I wasn't able to rub the sleep out of my eyes, I forced them open, and my jaw dropped. My hands and feet were secured to Fred's bunk with the remaining cable ties, and my clothes were neatly stacked on the far side of the room, with my knives set on the dresser. Oh yeah, I was COMPLETELY exposed, not even a bedsheet over my body, did I mention that? _Not good at all!_

While I was racking my brain trying to figure out an escape plan, the door opened. A grinning Fred closed it behind him and set a loaded tray of food on the dresser, next to my knives.

"Well, good morning," he smirked at me; I didn't even need a mirror to know that my infamous glare was firmly in place. "I was wondering when you would wake up."

"Clearly that was a concern, since you decided to _tie me to your bed!_" I tugged at the restraints, but there was no way I was getting out of them on my own. "Care to explain what this is all about?"

"I told you I'd get even," he grinned, crossing the room and slowly running a hand up my leg. "Don't worry, I made sure to inform the captain and Sergeant Kilburn that you'll be…indisposed for the next couple days."

_Oh shit!_


End file.
